A minute later, my body poised for an impossible second orgasm, his hand curled into the strands and used them to yank me back. "Like to finish this here, babe, but my condoms are in my pants and my pants are out there and we aren't at the point where raw is an option so it's time to get out."
"It's cold out there," I grumbled, moving off his lap.
"It's seventy-degrees out."
"And it's like a hundred in here," I objected, watching him turn and climb out of the tub, the water cascading down his body.
He turned back to me, brow raised like he had expected me to immediately follow him out. When I didn't, he nodded. "One minute," he said, walking mostly naked toward the closest cabana. He came back less than a minute later, still just in his wet boxer briefs that, I noticed, did absolutely nothing to hide his erection, but with a big white fluffy towel held out for me. "Come on," he said, jerking his chin up at me.
I swallowed hard against the ridiculous urge to feel self-conscious. So what if I was almost fully naked? He had just been touching my breasts in the hot tub. It was stupid to feel that swirly sensation in my belly. I exhaled and stood up, watching as Byron's eyes raked over me slowly before coming up to settle on my eyes. I climbed out and he wrapped the towel around me, holding the ends closed at the front with both his hands. "What?" I asked when I couldn't take the inspection any longer.
He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it, then dropped his hands from the towel and turned away back toward the cabana. "Grab my wallet," he called to me, making me stiffen a little.
Grab his wallet?
And then follow like an obedient little dog?
He got to the doorway and turned, head cocked to the side, smirk on his lips, like he knew what he was doing, like he knew it pissed me off when he did that alpha shit, but that a part of me responded to it. And all of me responded to him physically. With a huff, I bend toward his pants and fished out his wallet, pointedly keeping my gaze from his face because I knew he would be giving me that cocky smirk and I just didn't want to see it.
Finished, I stood to find him already inside the cabana. I had no idea what the cabanas were like inside. Matt hadn't opened any of them on our tour of the grounds. He'd simply explained that they were completely closed in unlike tropical cabanas because of the harsh winters. That was all I knew about the gorgeous white hexagonal structures.
I guessed I was about to find out a lot more, I decided as I got close to the doorway.
I took a breath and stepped inside to find perfectly beachy white shiplap walls and rustic wide-planked gray-stained hardwood floors. To the left in the small space was a counter with a drink fridge and sink. Directly inside the door was a white wood cabinet stuffed with white towels. And directly in front of me was a round outdoor daybed with white pillows. And, well, sitting on top, boxer briefs completely discarded, cock standing hard and expectant, was Byron.
He was at the end, feet hanging over, eyes watching me as I quickly took everything in and focused on him. "Drop the towel," he demanded almost immediately, making a flush break out over my skin, both from arousal and embarrassment. I tossed his wallet onto the bed beside him but his eyes never left me as I released the one-hand hold I had on the white fabric and let it fall. There was a low, almost growling sound from his chest before he clipped out, "Panties too." There was nothing I could do about my furious blush as I bent and shimmied the soaked material down my legs and stepped out, taking perhaps a little longer than absolutely necessary to fully straighten again, pressing my thighs together tightly. "There's going to be no hiding tonight, Prue," he warned me, his tone deep, almost threatening. "Come here," he said, tone a little softer and I felt my feet moving toward him before I was aware of telling them to do so. I stopped a few inches away from his knees, waiting.
His hands landed at the sides of my knees and drifted lazily upward until they reached my hips, landing there and pulling slightly, "Come on," he said, voice sexy-rough, and I slowly lowered myself down onto his lap, feeling his cock press into my belly. Unsatisfied with the careful distance I put between us, his hands landed mid-back and crushed me against him, my hard nipples pressed into his chest, my sex pressing against the base of his cock. I gasped at the contact as his hand grabbed the back of my neck and crushed my lips to his. There was no giving me the lead, no tentativeness, no submission. He set the pace and pressure. His head slanted. His teeth nipped. His tongue invaded. It was more than dominance; it was consumption. He consumed me. Leaving behind only a achy, needy, desire-filled shell of the woman I once was.